


Coffee and Contemplation.

by Kaddppa



Category: Half-Life
Genre: Angst, i just wanted to write something sad, very short
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-20
Updated: 2019-09-20
Packaged: 2020-10-24 17:41:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20709974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kaddppa/pseuds/Kaddppa
Summary: Most of the time Barney Calhoun could distract himself from his own thoughts with everything that was going on around him. But when it was quiet and his shift was over, he found not thinking much harder.





	Coffee and Contemplation.

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah, I stole the title from a line from stranger things.
> 
> This is very short and was written in like half an hour so its not fantastic, I just wanted to write about Barney and sad.

Sometimes he’d start thinking and then he couldn’t stop.  
Most of the time Barney Calhoun could distract himself from his own thoughts with everything that was going on around him.  
But when it was quiet and his shift was over, he found not thinking much harder.

Tonight was particularly bad, his shift had ended almost two hours ago and another had taken over watching over the front gate.  
Barney had taken a shower, water has hot as he could handle before he’d gotten dressed and made his way to the kitchen.

He felt too light without his heavy vest weighing his chest down, it set his teeth on edge.  
With a sigh he rummaged through the cupboards, he snatched one of the tinfoil coffee sachets between his fingers and tore the top of it off, tipping its contents into the chipped mug on the counter.  
He frowned as he looked into the cup, the powdered coffee, if that’s what you could even call it, was almost completely black.

Barney used to love coffee, drank so much of the stuff he couldn’t keep track, but the stuff that the combine supplied to its metro cops was nothing like what he used to drink.  
He smuggled as many sachets back to the current Resistance base as he could though, it was better than shooting yourself up with adrenaline just to make it through the day.

The click of the kettle snapped him out of his thoughts and he tore his eyes away from the cupboard and set to making his drink.

Barney sat at the table now, mug in hand, staring out the door and into the dark hallway, thinking.  
He took a sip of his coffee, the bitter taste and tar-like texture ground against his tongue, dragging him back to reality with a thick swallow.  
The first time he’d tried this stuff he’d actually gagged.

Barney remembered the times when he’d down coffee like a shot no questions asked, Gordon, watching him from over the top of his thick glasses with a judging look, like he could say anything, he was just as bad.

Oh God, Gordon, how long had it been, six years now?

He’d seen Gordon getting dragged down the hall by the HECU while he himself was fading in and out of reality.  
Barney drummed his fingers against the table in an effort to distract himself.

When he’d escaped Black Mesa with a few of the eggheads, he’d been numb, the adrenaline was wearing off and nausea had rested itself in his stomach as they sped down the highway.  
About ten minutes of driving and there was a bang, Rosenberg had yelled at them not to look at the blast. 

It had taken Barney about a week to break, a week on autopilot trying his best to ignore everything before he’d shed his first tears, screamed and kicked and cried, cursed the world and himself.

Barney let out a breath to steady himself, pushing his hands against the hot mug in an attempt to pull himself from his thoughts.  
But his mind kept flickering back, he thought back to before this, before everything, stupid things like racing with Gordon in the air vents to get into Kleiner’s office was making his eyes start to sting.

Because he knew no matter how hard they tried, no matter how hard they fought and screamed at their oppressors, things would never ever go back to how they used to be.

“Fuck,” Barney whispered quietly, letting go of his mug to scrub at his eyes, he felt stupid, he couldn’t change what had happened and yet he couldn’t stop thinking about it.

Once the tears started they didn’t stop, he sucked in a fluttering breath and cursed again when a gasp tore its way from his throat.

On nights like this, Barney Calhoun would think, he would think and he would cry, and he hated it.

**Author's Note:**

> >:')


End file.
